


Meeting the General

by Auriana Valoria (AuriV1)



Series: The Mage and the General [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, F/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:19:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314206
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuriV1/pseuds/Auriana%20Valoria
Summary: Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan, supposed Herald of Andraste, meets the five-star general of the Inquisition for the first time...





	Meeting the General

Verana-Kathryn Trevelyan’s high heels clicked loudly on the tile floor – uncomfortably so. With every step she winced, hoping she would not disturb someone behind one of the many doors that lined the hall. Her calves ached with the effort to keep the clicking to a minimum, and she clenched her white-gloved hands as she squinted at the signs outside each office.

_War room…war room…Maker, where is the damned thing?_

Agent Pentaghast had told her to meet her in the war room of the former Chantry that now served as the Inquisition’s intelligence headquarters. Unfortunately, in the Agent’s preoccupied state, she had neglected to tell Verana a room number or give her a map to find the place. So, the mage was on her own.

Sighing, she stopped in the middle of the hall and looked around to get her bearings, straightening her blazer as she did so. It was part of a crisp black suit, with slightly puffed sleeves and a high-necked, white silk blouse underneath – a donation from a woman Agent Pentaghast had called “Josephine.” She had kindly given Verana the outfit after her own had been ruined by the Conclave explosion. Verana had initially refused the generous gift, but Agent Pentaghast had insisted that she take it. When she finally put it on for her meeting with the war council, she was surprised at how well it fit, even if the tight, hip-clinging pencil skirt made her a little self-conscious; she would have been far more comfortable in pants.

She would also feel a lot more stable if her heels were about two inches shorter.

_I give up._

Sighing again, she smoothed her hands over her raven-black hair, making sure she hadn’t missed any strands when she pulled it back into a high ponytail that morning. Then, gathering her courage, she approached the nearest open office door and peered inside.

To her surprise, there sat a uniformed military officer, bent over his desk, his pen hand moving rapidly across paper as he appeared to be taking notes from a report. He was garbed in crisp burgundy wool, under which he wore a cream-colored shirt and a matching burgundy tie. His jacket was fastened with brass buttons and embroidered with thin gold thread along the lapels. An impressive rack of ribbons was pinned on the left side of his chest, more than a few matching medals dangling underneath and clinking gently with every movement. Opposite his medals, on the right side of his chest, was a brass nameplate that read “ _RUTHERFORD_ ” in crimson lettering. Each lapel bore a gold pin crafted in the shape of the Inquisition’s logo, and each epaulet sported five shining gold stars.

Hesitantly, she knocked on the door frame and cleared her throat to get his attention.

At the noise, he nearly jumped out of his skin, and she instantly felt guilty for scaring him, giving him an awkward smile of greeting that she hoped would ease any anger. He looked at her with almost fiery amber eyes, his expression initially one of surprise but melting into friendly curiosity when he beheld her. He had a handsome, square-jawed countenance, sporting a regulation-pushing amount of stubble. His blonde hair was brushed straight back from his face, and as he smiled in return, it pulled at a jagged scar on the right side of his upper lip.

 _Wow_.

“Can I help you, ma’am?” he asked.

“I hope,” she laughed nervously as she managed to tear her violet eyes away from him for a moment. “I’m ah…looking for the War Room. Agent Pentaghast said to meet her there around ten this morning.”

His brows rose. “Are you the one they call the ‘Herald,’ then?”

She grinned sheepishly, half expecting her Mark to flare up again just at the mere mention of the title. “That’s me.”

He suddenly rose from his chair, astonishing her with his height as he extended a hand to her. “General Cullen Rutherford, at your service.”

She carefully took his hand, giving it a firm shake even as it swallowed hers whole. “Verana Trevelyan. Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“The pleasure is mine, I’m certain, Miss Trevelyan,” he replied as he shook her hand with a wry smile and then released it. “You’re in luck. I was just preparing to go to the meeting myself. Let me gather my things and we’ll go together. That is, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, “Of course. Thank you.”

“No problem at all.”

Verana ducked out of his office as he gathered his paperwork, hoping he hadn’t noticed her face flushing bright red under her makeup. Closing her eyes, she cleared her throat, took a deep breath, and forced herself to focus.

_Maker, I always did fancy a man in uniform…_


End file.
